Sylar's journal Sept 22nd Heroes fan fiction
by djkrete
Summary: Excerpt from a journal that Sylar kept durring his formative days.


Sylar's Journal

September 22nd, 2007

We arrive in Barstow today and meet with Evan King, another person on Chandra's list. He doesn't want anything to do with us, like the others. The doctor leaves a copy of his book on the table and we head back to the car.

I suppose Chandra has gotten used to people thinking he's crazy, because it doesn't seem to bother him. The whole time we were there all I could think about was the look that will be on Evan King's face the next time I see him.

We decide to get a hotel room in Barstow for the night. The next name on Chandra's list is a man in Los Angeles, and he wants to leave in the morning. But I still have an errand I need to take care of while I'm in town.

Chandra has been acting very strange lately. He knows that at least two of the "special" people we've visited have come up missing, and one of them was found dead with the top of his head removed. Secretly in his heart he must know what I am becoming. He used to glow with excitement every time he tested out a new ability of mine. Now, every day he seems increasingly troubled.

Evan King lives with his wife and teenage son. It's all such a waste. I'll have to kill them all to cover my tracks. I've been getting sloppy lately, and I can't control it. I hardly feel the need to control it anymore. I know that nothing can stand in my way now, why should I have to hide? Why should I have to pretend?

I invite Chandra to see a movie with me, but I make sure it's a movie he won't be interested in. It's just an excuse to get away for a few hours.

Right now I'm just about to leave for the bus stop. I can hardly contain myself. I can feel Evan King out there, back at his apartment, so unaware. The hunger is like a ticking clock in my head.

September 23rd, 2007

I've been driving for eight strait hours and I'm exhausted. But I need to get my thoughts down while it's all still fresh in my head.

I thought this was going to be like the others. The others were so easy. But this time things did not go as planned.

My time-piece says 10:00 pm when I step off the bus near the King's apartment. I grin and nod to the teenagers smoking cigarettes outside the back door of the tiny apartment building as I pass by. None of them have any idea.

Apartment 204. No one will see anything suspicious. There's a knob on the other side of this door that will unlock it. I turn that knob with my mind and the door opens. I step into the living room and see his wife on the couch, watching TV. Too bad.

"Hi," I say, tipping my baseball cap. "The building Super' sent me over to check the pipes."

She looks up at me with an angry expression. "It's ten o' clock at night!" she says. "You ever hear of knocking?"

I look around the cramped apartment. Living room, TV, dinner table, kitchen. A hallway leading back to the bedrooms. The man I'm after is nowhere in sight.

"Where's your plumbing equipment?" the wife asks me, still angry.

I can't hold it back any longer. A movement of my hand and I have her pinned against the wall, holding her there with my brain. She tries to scream but can barely manage a gasp. My eyes begin scanning the room again. The kid must have left his homework out. There are several books scattered across the table, along with a pen and a pencil.

"A pen and a pencil," I muse aloud. "That should work."

And with a single thought I send them shooting into her skull like arrows. I can't describe the sense of joy and accomplishment I feel as I let her body fall to the floor, knowing how far I have progressed. But she wasn't the one I was really excited about.

The teenage son steps out of a door, into the hallway and sees me. I figure the room at the end of the hallway must be the parent's bedroom. I decide to use the boy as a battering ram. I stretch out my hand and send the boy crashing through the door into the master bedroom, and I follow.

And there's the man I came to see. Evan King runs over to his son on the floor.

"Daniel!" he shouts. "Are you alright?" Then he sees me. "Gabriel?!" he exclaims. "What is this?"

"My name," I say, "is Sylar. And _this_ is murder."

And then I see the look on his face I've been waiting for. I allow myself to savor it for just a moment, then I grab him by the throat and hold him up against the wall. I raise my finger to his forehead and saw his scull open with my thoughts.

Telekinesis makes this so much easier. And cleaner. The first time it was a real pain. I let King's body fall to the floor, brain exposed.

Then I hear a sound from behind. The sound of a gun being cocked. I turn my head and there stands the teenage son with a revolver pointed at me. The gun must have been hidden under the bed somewhere. Sharp kid.

I'm not worried because I know I can stop the bullets if I concentrate. Then he pulls the trigger twice and it feels like I've been hit by two speeding baseballs. I fall to the floor, and for a second I think I might be dead.

The boy is in shock over what he had just seen, and what he had just done.

I raise my head and see one of the bullets lying on the floor next to me. I couldn't stop them, but I managed to slow them down enough. It still hurts like hell though, and it knocked the wind out of me.

"And now you've made me _angry._" I say to him.

He raises the gun again and I send it flying into the wall.

In an instant I'm on my feet. I grab him around the throat and lift him into the air with my mind.

"I was thinking about letting you live, too," I tell him.

Then suddenly a searing pain shoots through my hand. Burning. I pull my hand back, dropping the boy. My entire hand stings except for my fingertips. Then I look down and see that it was not burning at all. The tips of my fingers are almost completely frozen solid.

Pain and anger gives way to fascination. "Hmm. Now _that_ is interesting," I say.

Suddenly the boy lunges at me, trying to grab my head with both hands. He comes very close. Close enough I can feel the sweat on my face freezing solid. But my talents are stronger than his and I hold him suspended in mid-air. He screams at me.

"Nice try," I tell him. "But as you can see, I don't need to touch you...to fix you."

I pin him against the wall with my mind and raise my finger to his head. He growls and groans with effort but is unable to move a muscle.

"We are both broken, young Daniel," I say. "Now it's time for me to get my fix."

The gunshots had drawn unwanted attention, so I work quickly. After getting what I need I make my way to the rooftop. From there I evade the police easily. I'm a half-mile away by the time their manhunt begins.

Strange. That one teenage boy proved more of a challenge than an entire army of police. My fingers are _killing_ me. I can't go back to the hotel. The cops are after me and I can't explain the situation to Chandra. Not right now. I'll call him later.

I decide to carjack the next person I see. Kill them and take their car and drive away somewhere. Los Angeles, I'm thinking.

I've been driving all night, I need some sleep.

September 27th, 2007

I just got off the phone with Chandra.

I called him a few days ago and he knew about the murders. He's completely unreasonable. He says he never wants to see me again.

I try calling him over the next couple days without success. Today I try calling his apartment back in Manhattan, and I get the answering machine.

"Hello Chandra," I say after the beep. "Why wont you talk to me? You can't leave me like this."

Suddenly I hear Chandra pick up the phone. "Hello, this is Sylar? I asked you not to call here anymore."

"The hunger," I tell him. "It's... I can't control it. I don't want to. You made me this way."

"_I,_ made you a murderer?" he asks.

"You helped me to discover my potential," I say. "And now, you want it to stop?"

"It's over," he says. "Goodbye." And then he hangs up the phone.

Those are the last words I hear him speak. By tonight, he wont be speaking to anyone ever again.


End file.
